


To Be Human

by Angeltiny13



Category: ATEEZ (Band), Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Coworkers to Enemies to Lovers, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Past, Detectives, Drugs, F/F, Found Family, Friends With Benefits, It's been decided, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mystery, Near Future, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Drugs, Vampires, i'm making this a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeltiny13/pseuds/Angeltiny13
Summary: When Park Seonghwa left the Vampire Covert Operations Division two years ago, he left everything behind, even his partner Kim Hongjoong. He wanted to forget and for a time, he could, working as a regular night shift detective. That is, until his old boss comes knocking, throwing his so carefully crafted black and white world back into messy shades of grey.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kim Bora | SuA/Lee Siyeon, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Kim Minji | JiU/Kim Yoohyeon
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	1. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line between human and monster is thin as a spider’s web, and sometimes just as invisible.

And the blood shouldn’t have been pretty, puddled on the black pavement, lit up by the neon pink and blue hues of the electric signs. Seonghwa couldn’t look at her body, so he focused on the blood. He watched how quickly the rain washed it down the drain, a scarlet river of a life gone too soon. Much like hers. Much like his. 

“Fuck,” Hongjoong hissed under his breath. He kept pushing his wet hair back, out of his eyes.

Seonghwa couldn’t be bothered. 

So much had gone wrong from the beginning—the beginning of the assignment or maybe even before that. What was it all for, if it just ended with a body in an alley?

For the first time in what felt like forever, Seonghwa was painfully aware of the empty cavity in his chest. He longed for his heart, even if he knew it would beat with nothing but the corrosive ache of grief. 

⥋

“Updates on the Crystal Paradox case?” Seonghwa asked Yunho, as he came up to his desk. 

Yunho clicked around on his computer, pulling up photos of the victim. The case was only a week old, but the department was dragging its feet since it was a death that occured at one of the sketchier clubs. Yunho zoomed in and enhanced the victim’s forearms and face in separate windows.

Seonghwa leaned in over Yunho’s shoulder.

“By the discoloration around the eyes and the track marks along the arms,” Yunho traced his finger over the screen, “I think it’s pretty safe to say drugs were involved.” Yunho slumped in his office chair. “We can’t be sure what kind though without the toxicology report.”

“Okay, what’s the ETA on that?” Seonghwa asked. 

“No idea,” Yunho admitted, looking sheepish. “When I called over, she was out on a long lunch. No one knew when she’d be back.”

“Seonghwa-ssi,” Jongho joined the pair by Yunho’s desk, “I finished the search on the victim’s surviving connections. Search came up empty.”

“Really?” Seonghwa said, straightening.

“I was able to trace the name back to an orphanage,” Jongho said, rubbing the back of his head. “The staff has since been replaced so there’s really no one left that knew her.”

“That’s sad,” Yunho whispered, almost as if he was afraid to utter the words. “No family _at all_?”

Seonghwa restrained himself from telling Yunho that having no family was more likely than he thought. He liked Yunho’s almost naive optimism. It helped him forget reality’s indiscriminate cruelty. 

Still, Seonghwa was torn. They were spared the burden of delivering devastating news, but to die without anyone to mourn you? Did you even exist at all? 

“Okay, well, file the toxicology report with the coroner once you get it.”

Yunho nodded. Jongho bowed, then returned to his own desk. 

“Oh, Seonghwa,” Yunho perked up, smiling, “wanna go to the game cafe tonight?”

“It’s Sunday, remember.” Seonghwa tapped his temple. As much as he wanted to join Yunho at the 24-hour game cafe and play until their eyes hurt and they forgot that some people exist without family, he had prior engagements to attend to every Sunday.

Yunho’s eager shoulders dropped with realization. “Right, I forgot.”

“Maybe take Jongho?” he suggested. 

“I tried before, but he says he doesn’t play games.” Yunho dropped his chin to his fist as his elbow rested on his desk.

The pair stared at the young rookie detective, whose interests they hadn’t been able to gauge beyond exercise. He wouldn’t even tell them about what sports teams he liked. It took weeks for Seonghwa to get him to at least drop the _-nim_ and settle for - _ssi_.

Seonghwa could tell it was starting to bother Yunho, not being able to make a friend easily. He placed a hand on Yunho’s shoulder, squeezed it reassuringly. “Don’t push too hard. He’ll come around.”

On Seonghwa’s way to his office, he stopped by Gahyeon’s desk as she covered her mouth, yawning. “Studying hard for finals?” he asked.

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, dabbed at her watering eyes, and nodded. “Always,” she said, offering a short laugh. 

Seonghwa opened his mouth to follow up, but Gahyeon finished for him. “But not too hard,” she smiled, “promise.” She stifled another yawn, waved off Seonghwa’s curious amusement. Her brows rose, as she picked up a hot pink sticky note from her desk. “Oh, before you go today, the Captain wants to see you.” 

Seonghwa took the sticky note, but it didn’t reveal much beyond what she just told him. “Did he say what about?”

Gahyeon shrugged, giving her signature “I’m just the messenger,” pose. 

Seonghwa nodded his thanks, then returned to his office. He finished up signing and filing paperwork from the week’s closed cases—some theft, some fraud, nothing crazy. It was a far cry from the work he used to do. Some might even call it boring, but Seonghwa was grateful. It wasn’t exactly peace, but it was manageable.

As 11 PM rolled around, Seonghwa closed the manilla folder of signed papers and rose to place it in his filing cabinet. He watered the small bonsai seated on the window sill behind his desk, then closed the blinds. After logging out of his computer and gathering his wallet and keys, he locked his office and went next door to the Captain’s office.

He knocked.

“Come in.”

Usually, Seonghwa would take a seat in the brown upholstered arm chair in front of his desk, ask how his kids were doing in school, if his wife finished redecorating the living room. This time, they had a visitor. Seonghwa stayed standing by the door.

Eden offered a casual two-finger salute in lieu of a greeting, as he leaned against the Captain’s desk. “Please, sit.” he gestured to the armchair. 

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Eden threw up his hands in mock defense.

Seonghwa tried to ask every question that flooded his head through eye contact with the Captain, but he kept his gaze trained on the _Best Boss_ mug Seonghwa had gotten him last Christmas.

“How have you been?” Eden asked.

Seonghwa crossed his arms. “What is it you want?”

Eden rolled his eyes, sighed. “Don’t be so gloomy, Park. I actually have good news.”

The good news Seonghwa wanted to hear was that Eden would never contact him again like they agreed upon two years ago, but he highly doubted that’s what he meant. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“The boys up top are implementing a new task force, the Human Vampire Detective Unit. HVDU for short. I recommended you as head of the project.”

“No.”

“Don’t be hasty.”

“I’m not. I told you I wanted nothing to do with that side of things anymore. Nothing’s changed.”

“How are you gonna keep an eye on those human pets of yours if you stay here then?”

Seonghwa stiffened. He hated the way Eden smirked, picking up on the slightest change in Seonghwa’s body language. “What are you talking about?” he asked after a moment.

“Regardless of if you accept the position or not, we’re recruiting from this department and the VCOD.”

Seonghwa schooled his face into marble. “Why is this unit being created anyway?” 

“The public’s not too keen about the existence of a group of _assassin_ vampires,” he put air quotes around _assassin_ , “backed by the government. This is to get eyes off the VCOD for a minute and improve public vampire-human relations.” Eden picked at his nails, likely bored by the script he was given. “I recommended you to lead the unit, since you’ve worked in both departments. Plain and simple.” 

Seonghwa felt a drying heat crawl up his back. His stomach felt both empty and full, unsettled.

“It’ll be strictly detective work, so wipe that look off your face.”

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. “How many?” he asked.

“Three of your choosing. I’ll be choosing the VCOD members.” Eden stood and made his way to the door. He placed a heavy hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder, squeezed, and regarded him from the corner of his eye. “You have 24 hours.” He left without closing the door.

Seonghwa exhaled a dead breath that stuffed his lungs like crumpled sandpaper. 

“Seonghwa…” the Captain tried.

“Don’t,” he said, then left. Yunho’s cheerful goodbye was nothing but background noise. 

As usual, the streets were empty in the corporate part of downtown at this hour. Seonghwa caught every red light on his drive from the office to his apartment. A moist mist clung to his windshield, creating a watercolor abstract from the neon traffic lights and street signs. 

As he waited for yet another red light to turn green, his fingers tapped a taut rhythm on the steering wheel. The mist picked up to a light sprinkle, a gentle harbinger of the coming rainy season. Seonghwa focused on the hollow _tick-tock-tick_ of his blinker rather than the memories that waited at the threshold of his consciousness. 

Thankfully, the light turned green before they had a chance to cross. 

Once Seonghwa entered his apartment, his senses were assaulted with the potent, fresh floral scent of camellias. Just underneath the perfume was the scent of a human’s blood, nearly indistinguishable. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

After hanging his keys on the hook by the door, he flipped the hall light switch on. Sure enough, there was a cherry red undergarment strewn across the carpeted floor. He kneeled to pick it up, but when he stood again, the bralette was snatched away. 

Siyeon smiled, lips pressed together smugly. She tossed it into the bedroom on the left and walked past Seonghwa to the kitchen. 

Seonghwa followed. “Siyeon, we talked about this. The extra bedroom is for if you can’t make it to your own place after jobs, _not_ for your hook ups.”

She rubbed the bath towel over her wet hair, as she browsed the open fridge. She hummed, twisting her mouth in dissatisfaction. “You’re out of type O,” she said, plucking a silver blood pouch from the fridge. “Also, you’re out of strawberry ice cream.”

“Again, not for your hook ups. That’s for Yunho.”

She shrugged and hopped to sit on the counter. After puncturing the hole with her fang, she took a few sips and typed a quick message on her phone, a coy smile playing on her face. Once finished, she pocketed her phone and trained her piercing gaze on Seonghwa. “Are you going to take the HVDU position?”

Seonghwa rested against the counter across from her, not even questioning how she knew about the project. She had always been closer with Eden than he was. “I don’t know. When’d you get back?” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Last night,” she answered curtly. “I heard Hongjoong and his team were selected to be part of the project.”

Seonghwa gripped the edge of the counter behind him. The hard edge pressed into his palms. He knew it was entirely too late to hide how that part that Eden had so conveniently left out affected him. Pushing up from the counter, he made to exit the kitchen. “If you keep drinking, you’ll ruin your appetite.”

She didn’t say anything but he felt her stare brand his back all the same, as he left to get changed.

⥋

Just after midnight, they pulled up to Daybreak Transitional Coven. After parking outside the wrought iron gate, they opened their black umbrellas and walked up the long paved driveway to the double front doors. Seonghwa lifted the brass door knock and let it fall against the thick wood.

While they waited for an answer, Siyeon side-eyed him. “Dork,” she said under her breath.

Seonghwa clutched the bouquet of black roses to his chest. “How long are you going to keep calling me that?”

“Until you stop bringing flowers like a dork.” She poked his cheek with her sharp acrylic.

He slapped her hand away. Before he could defend himself, the door opened. As if on queue, they both turned and plastered on their most polite smiles. 

“Oh, it’s just you two,” said the young girl, mouth turned down in disappointment. 

“Nice to see you too, Hyejoo.” Siyeon flicked her in the forehead, before stepping over the threshold. 

Hyejoo whined, rubbing her forehead.

Seonghwa bowed in apology, then followed her in. While they removed their shoes in the foyer, another girl swung around the corner, all wide smiles and bouncing pigtails. 

“Is that the pizza guy?” she asked. 

“No,” Hyejoo grumbled, going back to the sitting room. 

“Oh, Siyeon-unnie, Seonghwa-oppa,” she exclaimed, bowing at the waist. 

“Hey, Jiwoo,” Seonghwa said, patting her head. “Where’s Minji-noona?”

“She’s been in her office all day,” she explained, as they followed her to the sitting room. 

Seonghwa hummed. Once he reached the accent table in the corner, he took last week’s dying roses and replaced them with the fresh bouquet, moved the vase over so it’d be closer to the moonlight spilling through the large window. 

Siyeon draped herself over the back of the plum velvet couch, unnoticed by an oblivious Sooyoung who had her nose buried in a book. “Was that the pizza guy?” Sooyoung muttered, still reading. 

Jiwoo and Hyejoo hid their giggles behind their hands.

“Nope, just me,” Siyeon whispered.

Sooyoung screamed, dropping her book to her chest. “Si- Siyeon-unnie!” 

Everyone burst out laughing, while Sooyoung hid her face behind her book. Seonghwa shook his head. 

“Why are you girls ordering pizza anyway?” Siyeon asked.

“We were bored,” Jiwoo said, plopping down on the other camelback couch. “And we got to thinking…”

“What human food tastes like now that we’re, ya know,” Hyejoo trailed off.

“Vampires,” Siyeon finished, the word sharp as a butcher’s cleaver on her tongue.

Seonghwa made eye contact with her, tilting his head the slightest bit. _Leave them be._

 _They’re fine._ Siyeon answered, cocking her brow. 

The girls had only shown up, newly turned, to Daybreak’s door three months ago. It was natural for them to still be curious how much of their humanity remained. Sooyoung was still covered by a throw blanket even though she couldn’t feel temperature. 

Seonghwa remembered when the curiosity had struck him and he’d ordered chicken in the dead of night. Siyeon had intercepted the delivery man, but eventually joined Seonghwa’s taste test after relentlessly teasing him. Two twenty-one year olds huddled in a bunk like a couple of kids. Tearing into the chicken was easier than ever with his new fangs, but they both frowned at the bland taste on their tongue. It wasn’t particularly horrendous, just bland, like the color gray. No amount of salt changed it either.

The voices of two women cascaded from the left hall. One of which Seonghwa didn’t recognize. They had to pass through the sitting room to get to the door, so he waited. 

Minji entered, talking with a taller woman in thin-framed glasses, whose chestnut hair was pulled back into a neat bun, soft bangs falling over her forehead. She was dressed in a charcoal grey pant suit and carrying a thick binder with papers and multicolored tabs sticking out of it. She shouldered a brown leather messenger bag that seemed just as full of folders. 

Minji paused their trek to the front door, noticing Seonghwa and Siyeon. “Oh, you’re here early.”

Seonghwa glanced at the clock above the fireplace. They were right on time. He and Siyeon made suspicious eye contact.

“I’m just seeing Yoohyeon-ssi out,” she explained.

Yoohyeon bowed her head, composed despite being stared down by five pairs of curious eyes. “Nice to meet you all.”

Everyone bowed in return. They all watched the pair exit the sitting room and waited for Minji to return. After a few minutes, she came back carrying a pizza box. “This was on the porch,” she said, confused.

Jiwoo jumped from the couch and took it from her. After placing it on the coffee table, Hyejoo and Sooyoung joined her on the floor, staring down the grease-glistening cheese pizza. 

Instead of asking questions, Minji left the girls to their own devices. Seonghwa and Siyeon followed her to the dining room. “Something light?” she called over her shoulder as she opened the cherry wood, glass-door wine cabinet. 

“That’s fine,” Seonghwa said, as he took a seat in the high back chair on the right side of the table.

Siyeon sat on the left side in the seat across from him.

After Minji set a wine glass in front of each of them and filled it about a quarter of the way with aged type AB blood, she took her place at the head of the table. 

“So,” Siyeon started, swirling her blood around in her glass, “she was a cutie, smelled really sweet too. Didn’t know human nerds were your type.”

Seonghwa sighed internally. 

“Yoohyeon-ssi is a history scholar,” Minji clarified. “She’s compiling a history of vampires in Seoul for her doctoral thesis.” Minji took an unbothered sip, ignoring Siyeon’s impish grin. “We’re hoping to submit it to the Ministry of Education once it’s finished.” 

“That’s exciting,” Seonghwa said. “You’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

“I know right!” Minji smiled, eyes bright like rubies, the corners barely crinkling. If any human saw her, they’d guess that she wasn’t more than a day over twenty-five. Although she’d never given them an exact number, Seonghwa knew she had at least a couple centuries on her. 

“Ah,” Siyeon interrupted as if remembering something, “You wouldn’t believe what happened at my latest job.”

Minji’s grip around the stem of her glass tightened almost imperceptibly. 

“The target was a black market arms dealer,” Siyeon continued. “I’d been watching him for about a week, always surrounded by too many people, mostly his own little harem.” She waved her hand back and forth, annoyed. “Usually, I don’t have a problem with witnesses, but the client wanted this as hush hush as possible.” She took another sip.

The way her speech sped up, one would say the blood was getting to her, but Seonghwa knew better. Siyeon could drink an ancient half-vampire under the table. 

“So I had to get him alone through other means,” she whispered. “As soon as we got back to his hotel room, he grabbed my boob like a doorknob.” She slammed her glass down, startling Minji. “Can’t say I didn’t feel a little satisfied ripping his—”

“I was offered a position as head of a new detective unit,” Seonghwa rushed to say. He ignored Siyeon’s pouty sneer. 

Minji pressed a hand to her chest, composing herself, then turning her attention to Seonghwa. “Offered?” she said. “Are you going to take it?” 

“I’m not sure,” Seonghwa admitted. “The VCOD will be involved, but apparently the unit is strictly for detective work so the public can see humans and vampires working together.”

“Well, you have worked with both, and that sounds like a goal that aligns with your principles.”

Seonghwa couldn’t outright deny the truth of her statement. Still, he couldn’t shake his unease. Whether the VCOD liked him or not now felt small and petty compared to all the good the project could accomplish. Seeing Hongjoong after all this time could be dealt with too. They could be professional.

_Right?_

“I guess you’re right,” Seonghwa muttered, before taking a sip and letting the hot taste of sweet metal warm his throat. 

“Oh, Handong will be joining us for dinner next week,” Minji announced.

“I thought she was in Beijing until the end of June,” Siyeon said, leaning her chair back.

Minji frowned but didn’t tell her to stop. She realized the futility of fighting with Siyeon years ago. “She was supposed to be, but had to come back to deal with some business at the club.”

“Must’ve been serious for her to fly all the way back,” Siyeon said, leaving room for Minji to offer any details.

Of course, Seonghwa too wanted details, but they both knew how close Handong played her cards to her chest when it came to the several businesses she ran. Hell, they didn’t even know how many businesses she ran or had stock in. They knew she was as old if not older than Minji and that she came from a long line of pure-blooded vampire aristocracy. She was Daybreak’s main benefactor and something akin to a family friend. Despite knowing her for a decade now, Seonghwa could count how many facts he knew about her on only one hand. 

Dinner continued without much more entertainment. Minji saw them to the door once the evening neared a close. After they got their shoes on again, Seonghwa hugged her close. “See you next week,” he said, as they separated.

“See you next week,” she said, hands clasped in front of her.

Siyeon gave a short wave, opened the door, and left.

Minji watched her go.

“She loves you, always has and—” Seonghwa started.

“Always will,” Minji watched her silhouette grow more and more distant. “I know.” She looked at Seonghwa, eyes misty. “I just get worried.”

“I know,” Seonghwa said quietly, squeezing her hand briefly. “I’ll watch out for her as much as I can.”

Minji nodded.

Seonghwa left too with a wave goodbye, lengthening his stride to catch up with Siyeon before she reached the car.

Once they returned to his apartment, Siyeon crashed face down on the couch. 

“Siyeon,” Seonghwa tossed a throw pillow at her, but she caught it and threw it back. He dodged at the last moment. “Siyeon, go to your bed.”

She grunted.

“I’m not carrying your ass.”

She only curled around another throw pillow.

Seonghwa huffed, then unfolded the blanket from the arm of the couch and threw it over her. He knew the exhaustion from the job must’ve been hitting her like a truck but she didn’t have to be such a brat.

After making sure the door was locked, he loosened his tie and stepped onto the balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind him. He hated how he still knew the number by heart.

Eden picked up on the second ring. “That didn’t take long.”

“Detective Jeong Yunho, Choi Jongho, and employee Lee Gahyeon.” Seonghwa didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of casual conversation. 

“The receptionist?”

“Her clerical work and data-entry skills is second to none.” Plus, Seonghwa needed the perspective of a half-vampire if he was going to make this work.

Eden gave a short, flat laugh. “Your call, Park.”

“When do we start?”

“Monday.”

“That’s literally tomorrow.”

“Which means you better get to studying. I already emailed you all the case files and project details.”

“But I—” Seonghwa clamped his mouth shut. The cheeky bastard already knew he’d say yes, or rather, knew he had no other choice. It was only when his annoyance simmered down that he realized Eden had already hung up. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and looked to the black starless sky. After a long moment wishing for this to not be a mistake, he went back inside, remembering not to slam the door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. If you've read some of my other work, thank you for returning. If you're here for the first time, welcome. Either way, I hope you're ready. I appreciate your patience in advance. I spent all of my winter break working on the outline, so that things can move a bit easier for me. That being said, I'm a full time employee, student, and volunteer teacher, so updates will still be sporadic. Thank you for understanding.
> 
> Now that's out the way, I'm really excited about this for the simple fact that I'm living out my multi dreams. The main characters are tagged but I can list the other cameos in the beginning or end notes if y'all want, especially since I know some are more known by their stage names like the Loona girls from this chapter. Just let me know. Other than that, leave comments and kudos and subscribe! (I won't be on twitter during January, so subscribing will be the best way to know about updates)
> 
> Lastly, Happy New Year! Thank you for all the love and support. Here's to better days.


	2. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a time lost to time and one too many mistakes. So lost that even the cordial, frivolous question of “How are you?” sat like a rusty anchor in Seonghwa’s chest.

Seonghwa woke the following evening and got ready for work. He pressed his black slacks and white button up, ensuring the crispest of creases. After pulling a leather belt through the pant loops and securing it, he wrapped and folded a skinny black necktie around his collar, then flipped the lapels down. 

In his small bathroom, he leaned into the round vanity mirror to smear a concealer under his eyes, down the bridge of his nose, on his chin and the middle of his forehead. He smoothed the golden cream tone all over, blended with practiced brush strokes, sealed it in with powder. Once he filled in his brows with a pencil and gentle flicks of his wrist, he nodded to his reflection, then pulled on his suit jacket.

Ten years ago, Seonghwa thought he could handle change well. Of course, that was before he’d undergone the biggest change ever against his will. 

⥋

“You three will be joining me as members of the new Human-Vampire Detective Unit,” Seonghwa announced, as he sat on the edge of his desk.

“When do we start?” Yunho asked, a slight bounce in his heel.

“Is this a promotion?” Jongho asked, arms crossed.

Gahyeon looked between them, eyes wide. “Why…am I here?”

Seonghwa answered each question in stride. “We start today.” That seemed to startle Gahyeon even more, but he pressed on. “It’s not a promotion necessarily. And you’ll still be our receptionist.”

Jongho looked the slightest bit disappointed, broad shoulders slumping, but Seonghwa thought it more adorable than anything. Gahyeon shifted her weight from foot to foot, wrapped an arm around her torso.

Seonghwa continued. “The other members will be from the Vampire Covert Operations Division. This unit is meant to improve public opinion of human-vampire relations, but it’ll be much of the same work that we’re doing now.”

“What about our outstanding cases?” Yunho asked.

“You can finish the Crystal Paradox case but all other cases will be handed over to Chan’s team.” Seonghwa glanced over them, took a breath, then clapped his hands. “If no one has any more questions, then we’ll gather our things and head over.” He handed each of them a cardboard box that had been so conveniently resting on his desk when he arrived. 

After Jongho and Yunho filed out, Gahyeon lingered behind.

“What is it?” Seonghwa asked, softening his voice with as much sincerity as possible.

Gahyeon readjusted her grip on the box, as she stared into it. “Seonghwa-ssi, can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“Well, I- I’ve never quite been able to, uh, fit in with…” She kept her eyes on the box. “Nevermind, it’s so stupid.” She pivoted on her heel to leave.

“No, no, you’re fine. I get it.” He didn’t. He couldn’t. Seonghwa wanted to palm his forehead for missing something so glaringly obvious. 

Half-vampires were rare, especially if the mother was human, physiology rarely able to withstand the strain of birth or provide the necessary nutrients. Still, half-vampires were able to blend in with the human world, enjoy the privileges of the day. While vampires were easily identified by their pale pallor and faded carmine gaze, half-vampires could shift their eyes and absorb the sun’s rays without fear of death. For Seonghwa, leaving the rose-colored bubble of Daybreak was nothing less of a reality check. 

“Gahyeon, I’m sorry. This was an oversight on my part. If it’s too much—”

“No, no, I just wanted…” she trailed off, but Seonghwa waited for her to gather her thoughts. “Are you sure you want  _ me _ ?” she asked, finally meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“I am.”

She nodded, slow, considering.

“I’ll watch your back, always,” he promised.

“Okay.” She nodded again, exhaled a quick breath, then turned to gather her things.

Seonghwa began placing his belongings into his own box. He only had a few personal items—the fancy black fountain pens Siyeon had gifted him when he first started this job, a small white porcelain rabbit that Minji had gifted him for the same occasion, his bonsai. Once it all was packed, he stepped out of his office.

Yunho, Jongho, and Gahyeon stood at their respective desks, waiting.

“Ready?” he announced, more to himself than them. 

“As we’ll ever be,” Yunho answered.

With that, Seonghwa led them out of the fourth floor office and down the hall to the elevator. 

“Are we car pulling?”

Just as Jongho asked, Seonghwa pulled a key from the pocket on his shirt and inserted it into a panel beside the floor buttons. He turned the key and the panel slid to the side, revealing a touchpad. After pressing his hand to the pad, it illuminated in a bright white, before turning green. Another panel opened to its right to reveal a keypad. Seonghwa typed in a four-digit code.

“Wait,” Yunho started, “has the VCOD been below us this whole time?”

“Well, part of it has. There are several locations around Seoul and abroad. The one in our basement is mostly for the logistical side.”

Yunho listened, enraptured, mouth parted in hushed interest. 

Seonghwa held up the key. “Every location is accessed by a key, pin code,” he wiggled his fingers, “fingerprints, and the temperature of a corpse.”

“Huh,” Yunho exhaled, “Sometimes, I forget you’re a vampire.”

Just as Seonghwa answered with a tight-lipped smile, the elevator cherry-topped the moment with a definitive  _ ding _ . He led his little team through a dusk-lit hall, their dress shoes and kitten heels echoing against the black and white flecked linoleum tiles and stark white walls. The doors they passed nearly blended in with the walls, the rooms inside mostly empty of occupants. 

Seonghwa ignored the way his temple throbbed. This wasn’t his headquarters, but the lighting, the walls, the static chill in the air all made him blink slow and focused to make sure he wasn’t back there. His headquarters housed more agents rushing in and out of its halls, never staying long before it was time for the next job, the next hit, the next kill. It was better to keep moving. Because of this, for the first six months, he and Hongjoong had only seen each other in passing. Bad timing and convenience were the only things that had brought them together. 

Seonghwa loosened his grip around his box, after he noticed it crinkling at the corners. 

After two right turns and a left, they arrived at the room Eden said the VCOD members would be gathering their things. He knocked.

The door swung open, and filling its narrow frame was an imposing figure. 

Seonghwa swallowed the pleasant greeting down.

Mingi’s narrow vermillion gaze surveyed Seonghwa, searching, assessing. The look could be classified as hostile but it was too blasé to be dismissed that simply. “Park,” he said, like his name was toilet paper he was trying to scrape from the bottom of his shoe.

“We’re meeting in Room 109,” Seonghwa said.

“We’ll be there in a few,” Mingi answered, then closed the door.

Seonghwa readjusted his hold on his box, then turned and led the group to Room 109. He could feel their eyes bare down on his back. Even if they asked, he wouldn’t have an explanation for what just transpired. 

Mingi, Hongjoong’s partner. Like Hongjoong, Seonghwa only knew him in passing and through the handful of stories Hongjoong shared on rare occasions of candor. Mingi was on leave often, for reasons undisclosed. Seonghwa didn’t ask. That wasn’t something you did in the VCOD. 

Mingi was on leave and Siyeon was on a solo mission when Seonghwa was assigned as Hongjoong’s temporary partner the first time.

“Seonghwa-ssi,” Jongho called.

Seonghwa returned to the present and found they’d arrived at Room 109. He opened the door using the one other key on the ring Eden had left on his desk. Inside, the room was pitch dark. Flipping the switch did little to change that, with the fluorescent bulbs casting a weak, almost sickly pale light over the space. 

Seven black metal desks were arranged haphazardly. A 60-inch screen was embedded in the front wall, while every desk also held a sleek, glass screen computer. Yunho strode past Seonghwa to claim his own desk—one near the front—dropping his box on top and awakening a light cirrus cloud of dust. Jongho took the desk to Yunho’s right, straightening it so that it was perpendicular to Yunho. Gahyeon took the desk on Yunho’s left, dragged it back so it was closer to the farthest wall. They each set to work unpacking.

Seonghwa did too, claiming one of the desks closest to the screen in the front wall. Once he arranged his few belongings along the top of his keyboard, he logged into the computer and began organizing his desktop the way he liked—neat rows and columns of preloaded case files arranged alphabetically. 

After Jongho dusted his own desk off, he cleared all the surfaces of their layer of neglect. Gahyeon pulled out all of her neon sticky notes, pastel paper clips, jewel-toned gel pens, then tucked them away in her desk’s drawers. 

Yunho stuffed all of his thick case files into the one deep drawer, before lining up some palm-sized superhero figurines along the top of his keyboard. Deeming his job done, he flopped into his rolling chair and started tossing a red rubber ball against the floor. It ricocheted against the door, then returned to his hand. 

It was the only sound in the room besides Seonghwa’s occasional mouse click. The relative silence laid a heavy cotton over the anticipation, while the repetitive bounce punctured holes in it. When a metallic  _ click _ and sharp  _ pop _ interrupted, Seonghwa looked up.

Siyeon stood in the open doorway, smirking, the deflating ball skewered on her nails. 

Yunho clumsily rose and fumbled a bow. Jongho and Gahyeon followed suit. Seonghwa rose and moved to stand in front of his desk.

Siyeon stepped aside. In walked Mingi along with a young woman with shoulder-length, faded auburn hair, and no one else. 

Seonghwa caught Siyeon’s eye, asking where Hongjoong was. She gave a slight shoulder shrug. He didn’t have time to process how his muscles seesawed between tensed and relaxed, before he had to tune into their introductions.

“Name’s Song Mingi.” He lifted his chin in greeting.

“Lee Yubin, but I go by Dami.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, a not-quite smile. 

“And I’m not staying,” Siyeon interjected. “You all have fun.”

Seonghwa almost stopped her swift exit to ask where she thought Hongjoong could be, but didn’t trust his voice to come out neutral across the expanse of the room. So, he let her go.

After Mingi and Dami had settled at their respective desks, Seonghwa gathered the manilla file folders that held the details of their first case and passed them out. Apparently, the higher ups decided they didn’t need the standard glass file tablets, that they’d be okay with old school paper. He set the extra file back on his desk, then took his place at the front of the room. 

Seonghwa had no idea how he should begin the introductory meeting. It didn’t seem like any of them really chose to be here nor did any of them look excited to have been chosen. Well, except for Yunho. His rapt attention gave Seonghwa the push to just dive right in. “The Human-Vampire Detective Unit is an initiative used to improve the public’s view of human-vampire relations. This will help redirect public attention away from the VCOD so they can continue to operate as a tough but necessary part of law enforcement.” 

Seonghwa had his own personal qualms with the VCOD, but he also couldn’t deny the assigned targets were criminals of the most depraved variety—the official ones, at least. It was common knowledge in the appropriate circles that the VCOD hired out its employees for less official, more off the record jobs. Siyeon was one of those employees. 

“The cases we’ll be handling will mostly be cases with a lot of eyes on them. They won’t be terribly exciting,” he subtly directed toward Mingi and Dami, “so please bear with me.” 

He leaned over to his desk, slid open the drawer, and plucked out the tiny remote. Once he turned the lights off, a click brought up the case briefing on the big screen. Everyone opened their folders, the first page a copy of what was on the screen. “Hwang Yeji, 20 years old, missing since last Friday. Her college roommate and best friend Shin Ryujin called the police to report her missing Friday evening.” Both the young women’s photos were up and enlarged—Yeji a fair-skinned, platinum blonde human, Ryujin a red-eyed vampire, hair cut in a severe, deep blue bob.

Dami snorted.

“Yes?” Seonghwa urged.

She leaned back in her chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles, hands in her pockets. “Are we sure this wasn’t set up?”

“What do you mean?” Seonghwa rubbed his thumb across the buttons of the remote. 

She gestured lazily to the screen. “Ryujin’s a vampire. Yeji’s a human. It’s easy to blame the vampire, but if we can prove that Ryujin didn’t do it, or better yet, that a human kidnapped her roommate, then the public has to do a double-take. It’ll be the perfect face-case that not all human-vampire relationships are predatory.” Everyone stared at Dami, who only shrugged as if she’d just solved an elementary math problem. 

“The public meaning humans,” Mingi muttered, resting his cheek on his fist.

The thing was Seonghwa couldn’t deny how much it made sense. A set up though? He opened his mouth to respond, even though he had no idea where to begin. Whether the door opening at that moment saved him or damned him, he’d never be able to tell.

Hongjoong walked in. Their eyes met, briefer than a lightning flash. The corners of Hongjoong’s mouth curled into a faint frown, eyes guarded by imposing sentinels. 

While Seonghwa’s mind rolled over itself with the serrated rush of seeing him after so long, he couldn’t help but think how nothing about him had really changed. Hongjoong drew the entire room’s attention like an arrow to a target, or more like a magnet. It was in his nature, his easy, self-assured gait, his keen, intelligent gaze. Sure, his hair was now a pristine, silvery white, but it was no less mesmeric than his brilliant cobalt or rich red. Blue the last time Seonghwa had seen him, red the first.

His hair fell over his forehead in shaggy waves, a windswept mess. The sleeves of his white button up were rolled up past his elbows, necktie just the slightest bit loose. That was when Seonghwa noticed it, almost imperceptible in the dark, a thin splatter of scarlet, the faintest scent of human blood.

Hongjoong’s frown deepened, staring Seonghwa down as if daring him for confrontation. 

Seonghwa held out the extra case file.

He took it, not quite snatching, and continued his path to the last empty desk. 

Seonghwa tightened his grip around the remote. “As I was saying,” he bit out through clenched teeth, “We want to get this case taken care of as quick and clean as possible.” 

“This is a little too paint-by-number, don’t you think?” Hongjoong said to no one in particular, as he flipped through the case file in one hand and typed on his phone in the other. 

“Regardless—” Seonghwa started.

“That’s what I was saying,” Dami chimed in.

“Of course it is,” Mingi added, “gotta give the  _ public  _ what they want.”

Hongjoong cracked a dangerous smirk, laughing in agreement.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa called, imbuing his voice with as much authority as he could. “A word.” He wanted to come across as commanding. Inside, though, he was pissed. Hongjoong walked in and tilted his world off-axis, so easy, so careless. 

Hongjoong glared before pocketing his phone, then stood.

Seonghwa held the door open for him, as he passed. Once Seonghwa closed the door, he went to stand in front of Hongjoong who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes cast aside. It felt like he was a teacher scolding a student, despite knowing Hongjoong was older, at least in vampire years. “Well?” Seonghwa prompted.

“Well, what?” Hongjoong shot back, voice level. 

“Is that going to be a regular thing?”

“Is what going to be a regular thing?”

It’d been maybe five minutes and Seonghwa already wanted to throw something. Hongjoong tended to have that effect, but he’d hoped all the time apart would have simmered him down. Instead, it seemed to have heightened to a volcanic boil.  _ Prickly _ was the word Seonghwa had used after their first mission, after having spent real, actual time with the enigma. Back then, it was as if Hongjoong just couldn’t help his stubborn, sometimes insensitive attitude. Now, though, it was easy to see how this was different; it was intentional.

Seonghwa crossed his own arms, straightening. “Can you at least be professional?”

Hongjoong let out a cold, curt laugh. Finally, he looked at Seonghwa, studied him just as Mingi did. “I don’t know, depends.”

“On?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

“What about your people?”

“ _ My  _ people?” he scoffed, pushing himself up from the wall. “You forgot that fast that you were one of us? That you still are?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not-”

Without letting him finish, Hongjoong turned to go back to the room.

“Look, why are you here if you so clearly don’t want to be?” Seonghwa asked.

Hongjoong’s hands curled into fists, before relaxing again. He turned and marched up to Seonghwa until they were only inches apart. Again, he stared, making Seonghwa feel like he was under a microscope, gaze cruel and merciless. “I’m here same as you are: to make sure  _ my  _ people are treated right.” 

“Something we agree on then,” Seonghwa offered, maintaining an impartial expression despite the reactive hurricane blowing around inside.

“Agree isn’t exactly the right word.”

“Whatever the right word is, can you at least not interrupt me during briefings?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched. He whipped around again, his quiet answer of “fine” getting tossed over his shoulder.

Seonghwa sighed, rubbed his temples, waited a bit before following him back into the room. Once returned, he continued the briefing, without any more interruptions—verbal ones at least, Hongjoong was still on his phone. Seonghwa ignored him and assigned roles. “Yunho and Mingi will take point on this one, while Dami and Jongho will offer tech support. Meeting adjourned.” 

No sooner did he shut off the screen and turn on the light did his phone vibrate. It was Eden. “Hello?” Seonghwa answered, walking back to his desk as everyone busied themselves with their respective tasks.

“There’s been another overdose. This time at the Noir Siren. Go check it out. Take Hongjoong.”

“Heard.” Seonghwa hung up. He almost asked why the police department didn’t check it out themselves, but the Noir Siren was an all-vampire club. The mostly human police force tended to avoid meddling in what they deemed vampire-exclusive business.

“Hongjoong,” he called. “We’re heading out.”

Hongjoong looked ready to protest.

“Direct orders from Eden,” Seonghwa added. That made Hongjoong rise, albeit grumbling. He pulled on his suit jacket and pocketed the car keys, made his way to the door with Hongjoong following close behind. “Yunho, call me if you make any headway in the case.”

“Will do, Boss!” 

The drive over was silent. From the corner of his eye, Seonghwa watched Hongjoong. He kept his eyes ahead—quiet, still, so different from how he was when Seonghwa first saw him at the Noir Siren nine years ago. 

Tired of seeing Seonghwa moping around Daybreak (her words, not his), Siyeon dressed him up, did his makeup, and dragged him out to the club. Seonghwa remembered very little from that night, memories dipped in kaleidoscope high gloss. Still, Hongjoong’s bold red hair stood out in the black night, a signature tattooed on his mind’s eye. It was the first time Seonghwa had gone out. It was the first time he’d tried vampire venom. It was a time lost to time and one too many mistakes.

So lost that even the cordial, frivolous question of “How are you?” sat like a rusty anchor in Seonghwa’s chest. 

Once they arrived, Seonghwa pulled up and parked behind the forensics van. They got out and Seonghwa held up the yellow caution tape for Hongjoong to cross under. He crouched and followed him into the dark brick building’s side entrance. 

Inside, the place was bright and empty; the overhead industrial lights shined through the hot pink glass ceiling, casting a saccharine glow. The occasional click of a camera shutter was the only sound in the uncharacteristically quiet space, like a ripple in a pond. They made their way over to the lounge area that was closed off with more caution tape. As they got closer, a sharp, sour smell permeated the air. Seonghwa put his finger just below his nose. 

There, on the neon lavender leather couch lied the victim—a man, whose soft features suggested he was likely just in his early twenties. Seonghwa grimaced, as he took note of the purpled skin below his eyes, the doped out smile that cemented his chapped lips. It was a moment of pure, all-consuming bliss preserved in reality. 

Seonghwa turned to the paramedic on scene. “Is the owner here?”

The paramedic nodded, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the hall beside the bar. “They took the staff to the back,” he said.

Seonghwa took one last look at the victim. “Make sure any and all identification is photocopied and sent to my office.”

“Sure thing.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong maneuvered around the iridescent confetti piles, prismatic glass platforms, and various dregs (wallets, sunglasses, earrings) left by that night’s crowd in their hasty evacuation. They pushed through the lime green glass door behind the bar that led to the employee only area. Beyond the kitchen and the stockroom, they found the staff gathered in the small lounge room. 

The owner stood in the center. Seonghwa had only seen her on occasion, mostly because she’d often blend into the motley-dressed crowd. Lee Sunmi stood with her hip cocked, her legs clad in a second skin of lavender vinyl. Her arms were crossed, dwarfed by bishop sleeves of sheer chiffon in the same color. She regarded her staff over the tiny violet sunglasses sitting at the tip of her nose. She looked more annoyed than anything.

Seonghwa waded through the tension. “We’re detectives with the HVDU.” He presented his badge, as Hongjoong did. “May we speak to the staff?”

After a moment, Sunmi sighed, dropped her arms to her sides. The annoyance slipped to the floor like a curtain, revealing an honest fatigue. “By all means,” she brushed past Hongjoong on her way out, “I’ll be in my office.”

They instructed everyone they weren’t interviewing to wait in the hall, while they spoke to everybody one at a time. Seonghwa handled the talking, while Hongjoong stood behind him. There were about ten staff members—dancers, bartenders, bottle girls, bouncers—on the clock when there was a scream and the body was discovered to be more than just a passed out drunk. They all said the same: too dark, too loud, too crowded to notice anything out of the ordinary. And what was considered out of the ordinary at a nightclub? Nothing, until it was too late.

Seonghwa dismissed them all after giving them his card and instructions to call if they noticed anything over the next few days. He drummed his fingers against the table, pouring over all the accounts, frustration already building. Still, he stood. He and Hongjoong left the lounge room, made their way to the end of the hall where the door to Sunmi’s office was nothing more than a turquoise beaded curtain.

Startled, she straightened in her seat behind her desk, swiped at the corners of her eyes.

Seonghwa met eyes with the other person in the room—a shorter woman, sleek brunette hair parted down the middle and tucked behind her ears, elegant eyes kind and concerned, as she rubbed slow circles on Sunmi’s back.

Sunmi followed Seonghwa’s gaze. “I’m sorry, she just- I mean-” She looked at the woman, softened. “This is my wife, Chungha. She just got here. Will she need to be interrogated too?”

“Can she prove her whereabouts around the time of death?” Hongjoong asked, unmoved.

“Our house has security cameras,” Chungha hurried to explain. “We can send the footage over.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Seonghwa said, alleviating their anxiety. “Sunmi-ssi,” he tucked his hands in his pockets, relaxed his stance to further put her at ease, “What are your security procedures?”

“We have metal detectors and bouncers at every entrance.” She sniffled. “Everyone’s pat down too before they come in. But I… I can’t control if someone comes in here already high on something, something crazy. I can’t.” She was rattled still, mind likely replaying the chaos that had erupted just hours before. Chungha’s hands settled on her shoulders.

“Any cameras?” Hongjoong pushed on.

“At the entrances and exits, and in the employee areas.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa answered, “just have that footage sent to our office.” He placed his card on her desk. “Call if anything changes or if you remember anything else.”

She nodded, eyes still glossy with unshed tears. 

Seonghwa parted the curtain and left, hearing Hongjoong follow not too long after. He wouldn’t be able to make any meaningful connections until they had more information. Even the information they were counting on was scant. It was always the waiting game. Putting together puzzles without knowing when or if you’d get all the pieces. Sometimes, these puzzles didn’t even create sensical pictures. Some crimes were too ugly to make sense. Those were the ones that kept Seonghwa up.

So caught up in his head, Seonghwa didn’t notice Hongjoong breeze past him and slide into the driver seat. “What are you—”

“Get in,” Hongjoong directed. 

After staring down Hongjoong’s profile, Seonghwa relented and walked around the car to get in the passenger’s seat. Without any further instruction or explanation, Hongjoong shifted the gear to drive and hit the gas, whipping around the forensics van, burning rubber on the black pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy "Hella Late" New Year! Thank you for being patient. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though I'm sure you just have more questions than before. I can't lie, writing this kind of tension is very enjoyable. It's testing my patience but in a good way, if that makes sense. I've been shooting to at least write a page a day, and to be honest I've even been writing during some of my classes 'cause I'm just that excited about this. Again, thank you for your patience.
> 
> See you in the next one! Leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think! ^_^


	3. Obsidian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of heels against the polished floor, short and threatening like a blade against a cutting board, interrupted Wooyoung’s threat. He turned, even though he knew who it was by the way everyone in the room stiffened, lowered their heads, and worked a little faster.

“Which one of you thieving bitches stole my face cream?” Wooyoung shouted as he entered the open bar space. It was still a few hours before they opened, so the only people in it were a few early employees. So, it was more than easy to spot the usual suspect.

Byeonkwan smirked as he leaned against the counter. The eye contact he made with Hwanwoong, who was perched on a stool beside him, was swift but not unnoticeable. 

Wooyoung marched over to them, held his hand out to Byeonkwan. “I know you have it,” he said.

Byeonkwan rolled his eyes. “Now why would I have something I don’t need?” 

“Sure about that?” Wooyoung said, crossing his arms. “I know it’s not that easy to see when your head’s so far up your ass.” 

Hwanwoong stifled a snort. “He really wants his head up a certain someone’s ass,” he muttered.

Byeonkwan whipped around, looking betrayed. “Whose side are you on?”

Unbothered, Hwanwoong shrugged. “Just here to get paid.”

“Where’s my face cream, BK?” Wooyoung said, drawing closer.

“I don’t have your damn face cream.” He straightened, face close enough to inhale Wooyoung’s exhales.

“I swear you’ll need more than—”

The sound of heels against the polished floor, short and threatening like a blade against a cutting board, interrupted Wooyoung’s threat. He turned, even though he knew who it was by the way everyone in the room stiffened, lowered their heads, and worked a little faster. 

“You’re back early,” he said to Handong, but his attention was really occupied by who was behind her.

Yeosang caught and released his gaze, the moment brief but not missed by Handong’s acute senses. _Control yourselves,_ her eyes said, especially piercing when pointed at Wooyoung. Yeosang returned his focus to the white ball of energetic fluff in his arms.

“My office. Now,” she commanded the trio. “You,” she pointed a manicured nail at a poor, unsuspecting worker, “Tell San to meet me in my office.” The worker nodded frantically, then rushed off. Handong continued past them, steps heavy and tone more annoyed than usual. 

They all exchanged curious looks before following her down the hall and up the stairs to her office. After piling onto the chaise lounge in front of Handong’s desk, Wooyoung watched Yeosang play with the little bichon frise by the fireplace. Shortly after they arrived, someone had come to light it and now the flames illuminated Yeosang’s face and made the honey blonde of his hair glow warm and radiant.

Someone dropped into the nonexistent space between Wooyoung and Hwanwoong, breaking Wooyoung out of his reverie. Wooyoung groaned under San’s weight, moving his legs and settling them across San’s lap.

San sideyed him, smiling and shaking his head when Wooyoung stuck his tongue out.

Handong tapped her nails across the desk, a quiet rage distilled to a repeated rhythm. She leaned back in her leather chair, drummed her nails against the arm of the chair. “Well?” she prompted, raising a thin brow. “Who was it?”

They remained quiet. Saying they didn’t know would only throw gasoline to the flames. 

Her eyes narrowed. Leaning forward, she placed her hands, palms flat, on the desk. “Fine,” she conceded, “Who do you _think_ let the drugs in?” 

That got them going. 

“Maybe it’s that new guard, Mingyu,” Byeonkwan tossed out.

“You’re just butthurt because he won’t sleep with you,” Hwanwoong clarified.

Byeonkwan choked on nothing. “Woong,” he wheezed. “You are such a—”

“I don’t care what you want up your ass,” Handong cut through, “it better not interfere with your job.”

Wooyoung ignored the way her eyes flitted to him, almost subconsciously.

“Now,” she composed herself, “focus.”

“There’s that new bartender and bottle girl,” Hwanwoong offered. “Jeon Soyeon and Lee Gahyeon.”

San cleared his throat. “Gahyeon’s an old friend of mine. I can vouch for her.”

“How old?” Handong pressed.

“We met my first year at Uni. She’s in her fourth year now, works as a secretary at the police department when she’s not here. Her boss is a goody-two-shoes. She’d never—”

“I know all of that. You’re the one who vowed to be her reference.”

“I know and I still stand by my decision. She might be clumsy sometimes but she’s no criminal.” Despite the quick thinning of Handong’s patience, likely amplified by jet lag, San’s voice didn’t waver. She didn’t waver either, staring him down for a moment that stretched taut like stale gum. 

Wooyoung jumped in. “Didn’t Soyeon used to work at the Crystal Paradox?”

After another moment, Handong turned her attention to him. “Yes, but she also comes on high recommendation.” 

They were at an impasse. The steady crackle of the fire and occasional yip of the puppy tittered over the silence. 

“Keep an eye on everyone,” she said finally. With a flick of her hand they were dismissed.

They filed out and went their separate ways. Wooyoung didn’t even bother badgering Byeonkwan anymore, just went straight to his room— _Room 3_. 

As soon as he entered, he tripped over a white fur throw pillow. He tossed it onto the dusky rose brocade loveseat, then picked up a stray throw blanket, folded it, draped it across the back. He adjusted the bouquet of black dahlias on the side table, crouched to realign the trio of candles on the antique coffee table.

Although most of the clubs in Seoul’s nightlife district had adopted a sleek, neon future aesthetic, Handong wouldn’t budge when Wooyoung suggested they remodel. He wasn’t suggesting a complete copy paste of somewhere like the Noir Siren but trading the brocade for leather or velvet would be a start; it would be more comfortable at the very least. But no, Handong was attached to this place like an overprotective parent, especially since it was the first of its kind to pop up in Korea—highly distinguished, she’d say. Wooyoung would agree, distinguished by its (historically accurate, because she’d spent time in Great Britain during the height of the style’s popularity) Victorian English decor. 

He supposed it didn’t matter much since the clientele remained frequent and loyal across the decades. Still, he’d continue his whining, if only to test his theory that Handong’s looks could kill. He laughed to himself.

There were three knocks at the door.

Wooyoung stood, ran his hands down his silk button up, then went to answer it. “That was fast,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Shut up,” Yeosang said, pushing Wooyoung back into the room. 

Wooyoung was barely able to shut the door before Yeosang had him pinned against it. “Why’re...you so...wound up?” he asked between Yeosang attacking his mouth. It was a stupid question. The way his hands gripped Wooyoung’s face was answer enough. 

“Jet lag,” Yeosang muttered into his mouth, voice rough and ragged. He caged Wooyoung in with his hands against the wall, started sucking his neck with feverish focus and leaving little sparks of flames across his skin. 

“The flight’s...just two...hours.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Miss me that bad?”

“Miss _this_ that bad.” Yeosang pinched Wooyoung’s ass. “I told you I would’ve paid you to come with us.” He pulled back, eyes scanning Wooyoung’s face.

Wooyoung ignored the way his chest squeezed. “You know I had to stay to watch this place.”

“Great job by the way,” Yeosang joked.

Wooyoung crossed his arms, scoffing. Yeah, he didn’t miss that biting sarcasm at all. He pushed past Yeosang, bumping against his shoulder. 

Yeosang laughed that deep, resonant laugh of his and grabbed Wooyoung’s arm. “Come on, Wooyoung, you know I didn’t mean it.” He turned Wooyoung in his arms, encircled his waist as he drew him close. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth. He paused before landing a more insistent kiss to his lips.

Wooyoung hated how fast his lips parted and invited Yeosang’s tongue against his own; hated how Yeosang ran his tongue across the tips of his fangs; hated how much he missed breathing Yeosang’s air and giving Yeosang his own. He hated how easily they fell into familiar steps through the sitting room where he took clients to the small bedroom that was meant for nights employees couldn’t make it home in enough time to beat the sun. For Wooyoung, it was the place he called home for the last ten years. 

When he felt the back of his knees hit the side of the bed, he took Yeosang’s shoulders and pushed him onto his back. He climbed on top. As he went to undo his belt, he noticed a small gray box peeking out of Yeosang’s trouser pocket. He narrowed his eyes, arched his brow. “For me?” he feigned bashfulness, “You shouldn’t have.”

Yeosang pinched his hip. “Just open it,” he said, running his hands up and down Wooyoung’s thighs.

Wooyoung removed the gift box. He wasted no time taking the top off and throwing it over his shoulder. If he didn’t idle, he wouldn’t have to tire himself out with the endless confusion of figuring out what this gesture meant. “Oh,” he squealed in delight. “Pretty.” Inside, resting against black velvet, were a mismatched pair of earrings—a ruby stud and a silver chain with a ruby drop. 

“From Minghao’s latest collection. They reminded me of your eyes,” Yeosang said, quiet despite how close they were. 

Wooyoung tilted his head, playfully skeptical and not wanting to believe he heard a slight tremor in Yeosang’s voice. “We all have red eyes.”

“You’re impossible.” Yeosang sighed, head falling to the side.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Wooyoung cooed. He cupped Yeosang’s jaw and turned his face back to him. “I like them, I do. Thank you.” 

Yeosang smiled, just a faint upward tug of the lips. 

Wooyoung faltered. All this time apart had made things…hazy. Any other time, Yeosang would have had Wooyoung on his hands and knees, biting the pillow and tearing at the sheets by now. The gifts weren’t unusual (Yeosang, being the sole heir of some old vampire aristocracy, complained he had too much money to spend on just himself, and Wooyoung would never turn down pretty things). They were just never so personal. 

Yes, Yeosang had invited him on the Beijing trip, but it had come with a price tag. It had dug a wound in Wooyoung he didn’t know how to heal or even stop the bleeding of. So, he let the blood fill him up until he could see nothing but red, until he could hear nothing but pounding in his ears, until Yeosang returned and drained him dry again. They were both vampires but Wooyoung felt disgustingly human under his touch. 

He leaned over to set the earrings on the nightstand, but Yeosang’s fingers dug into his thigh. 

“Wait. Can you…put them on?”

_Oh._

Wooyoung let a smirk crawl across his face. “Like seeing me in pretty things?” He let his weight rest more heavily on Yeosang’s hardening bulge. “Like seeing me dressed up in things you bought?” After all, Wooyoung, too, was a thing Yeosang bought, night after night. 

Wooyoung never slept with clients. That wasn’t the kind of business Handong ran, but it was the kind of business that sold a fantasy, an alluring experience. Wooyoung was an entertainer. Clients came for company, for someone to sit there, look pretty, and listen, someone to make them feel good about themselves. Clients came for the intoxicating euphoria of being bitten. All of their clientele were human, wealthy, and pathetically insecure. The job was easy, but sometimes painfully boring and predictable. 

Until Yeosang.

Wooyoung rolled his hips, making Yeosang moan, face flushed from being called out. He bit his lip at the sight. Before going any further, he took the earrings from their box and placed them in his ears, making sure they were extra secure. He tossed the box to the nightstand. It slid to the edge but didn’t fall.

“Better?” he asked.

Yeosang nodded.

Wooyoung took his time unbuttoning his shirt, losing his inhibitions in the way Yeosang watched him. He let it slide from his shoulders and puddle around his waist.

Yeosang glided a hand over his exposed stomach, slow, graceful, reverent.

Wooyoung swallowed. “Why are you being so gentle?”

“Would you rather me not?”

He would rather him not tangle already tangled knots, but he just shook his head. “Do what you want,” Wooyoung whispered, tone unsteady and dismissive. 

Yeosang’s mouth pinched at the corners, but he didn’t say anything. 

⥋

Wooyoung woke to the soft sound of Yeosang’s snoring, his arm thrown over his torso and Yeosang’s around his waist. Even in sleep Yeosang’s expression remained beautifully sibylline. Wooyoung pressed a lingering kiss to his collarbone, savoring the salty taste. His body felt heavy, the ache dull but satisfying. 

He traced a finger absentmindedly up and down Yeosang’s ribs, pressed his ear to his chest though there’d be no heartbeat to lull him back to sleep. Despite everything in him screaming to not make this moment more than it was, he let himself imagine they were somewhere else. Maybe one of the French villas Yeosang’s family owned, or one of the seaside estates in Santorini. He heard the waters there were bluer than raw lapis lazuli. 

He knew Handong would let him go, but he also knew Yeosang would try to compensate him, just as he did for Beijing. Wooyoung didn’t know how to tell him he didn’t have to, that he’d go anywhere, do anything not for the money but for Yeosang. The routine was too ingrained in their bones. They were in too deep and Yeosang was too hard to read. And Wooyoung? Well, Wooyoung was a coward.

So, he settled for moments like these. He kept them in dusty glass jars, hid them in the deep recesses of a closet under lock and key, took them out when he was feeling particularly masochistic. 

A loud, banging knock filtered into the bedroom from the sitting room. 

Wooyoung sat up, slow enough not to disturb Yeosang. The clock on the nightstand read _2 a.m._ His first client wasn’t scheduled until 3:30. Who the hell was banging on his door like they were the police?

More knocking.

Wooyoung rose from the bed, careful but irritated. He pulled on his pants and his shirt but didn’t bother to button it up all the way, settling for one button just so it didn’t fall from his shoulders. Yeosang turned over, but didn’t wake. After one last look at him, Wooyoung slipped out of the room, shutting the door with a hushed click.

He paced across the rough hardwood floor and jerked the door open. “Somebody better be dying,” he hissed. 

“Somebody did,” Hongjoong said. 

Wooyoung relaxed, but he still regarded Hongjoong with tempered indignation. There was someone with him. He’d come along maybe once or twice, but Wooyoung didn’t bother to remember his name. “What do you want, hyung?”

Hongjoong shoved his phone in Wooyoung’s face. “Hear anything about a new drug lately?”

The man behind Hongjoong sputtered. “When did you take those? We’re not supposed—”

One look from Hongjoong clamped his mouth shut, though his expression remained both shocked and exhausted.

Wooyoung leaned out of the doorway to look up and down the hall. Empty. “Not anything worth mentioning,” he answered.

“Look closely, Woo. This is important.” And Hongjoong sounded serious. He usually did, but something about his tone sounded close to desperate this time. 

He also never asked about the drug market. That wasn’t Wooyoung’s area of expertise. Wooyoung knew who vacationed where, who was hosting the year’s holiday soirees, who had secret getaway homes they frequented to do less than legal business—the social ins and outs of Seoul’s high society. He never thought too long on what Hongjoong did with the information he provided. He minded the business that paid him and Hongjoong paid him well enough not to care.

Wooyoung sighed and took the phone. There were only two photos, one guy, one girl. He swiped back and forth between them, memorizing the saggy, purple skin beneath their eyes, their content smiles. “Do you know how it’s taken?” he asked.

“Injection, I think.”

Wooyoung raised a brow. “You think?” 

“There have only been two cases but the form’s different in both. One’s injection, the other’s ingestion.”

Wooyoung paused on a swipe, and damn Hongjoong’s keen eye.

“What?” Hongjoong prompted.

“There were drugs found here recently,” the man supplied.

Hongjoong’s eyes went wide. He looked to the man, then to Wooyoung. “Is that true?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer but that was more than an answer on its own. “That’s why your royal highness is back early,” he said instead. He didn’t know how the man knew something that was supposed to be so underwraps, but it irritated Wooyoung. He didn’t know how the drugs made it in or who brought them in but it happened on his watch and this man, this outsider knew about it. 

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, looked down the hall. 

“Why don’t you go ask her yourself?” Wooyoung suggested.

They locked eyes, both knowing how futile an endeavor that would be. Wooyoung ran a hand down his face, sighed. “I’ll keep an eye and ear out, but I can’t guarantee anything. She’s already trying to keep it as quiet as possible.”

“I know,” Hongjoong conceded. “Just whatever you hear, let me know as soon as possible. Nothing’s too small.”

Wooyoung nodded. 

“Thank you.”

That surprised Wooyoung, but he didn’t dwell on it too long before they disappeared down the hall. 

He returned to bed, Yeosang’s arms automatically wrapping back around him.

“Sorry,” Yeosang muttered, voice gritty and thick. “Gonna get up soon.”

Wooyoung shushed him, nuzzling close. “Just go back to sleep.”

“I’ll pay extra,” he mumbled, even as his eyelids fluttered close. 

“Just go back to sleep.” Wooyoung pressed himself closer to Yeosang’s chest. 

⥋

Yeosang didn’t get up soon. Luckily, Wooyoung’s 3:30 was a client that usually didn’t loiter too long. So, he locked his bedroom door to let Yeosang sleep for as long as he wanted and took his appointment in the sitting room. 

After seeing them out, he stretched his arms above his head, shook his legs out, cramped after sitting for so long. He poured himself a glass of water, swished it around his mouth before spitting it in the porcelain bowl on the corner shelf. He was grateful this guy didn’t stay long; his blood tasted rancid. 

Instead of going back to bed, he decided to visit Handong’s office to make sure she hadn’t murdered anyone. He knocked once and let himself in. 

She didn’t look up, face illuminated by the bright electric blue of her laptop screen as she typed with one hand and ran a finger down one piece of paper atop a stack of many. Her hair was up in a loose but somehow still perfect bun, fallen curls framing her face. Her eyes scanned the screen in a cold efficiency, but the faint lines beneath them were more defined than usual. 

Wooyoung went to play with the puppy that was resting beside the fireplace in its dog bed. He cupped the puppy’s face, using his thumbs to scratch its ears and ruffle its fur. It panted, reaching up to lick Wooyoung’s face when he cooed near its nose. Wooyoung drew back, smiling. 

He looked back at Handong, who was still engrossed in her work. “What are you doing?”

“Cross-checking guest logs from the past three weeks.”

“That can’t wait until tomorrow?”

Finally, Handong looked up from her computer, but only to glare at Wooyoung. “No. It can’t.” She returned her gaze to the screen.

After several moments of nothing but the sound of curt typing and the puppy whining, she spoke again. “He wouldn’t shut up about you while we were gone.”

Wooyoung didn’t need to ask who she was talking about, nor did he want to acknowledge how that information made him accidentally bite his tongue. Instead, he asked, “Did you buy anything interesting?”

“You’re playing with it.”

He figured that would be her answer. Still, he couldn’t help his curiosity. He’d known Handong long enough to know she didn’t make arbitrary trips for pleasure. There was no way she went to Beijing for three weeks out of her planned month and only came back with a dog. “Oh, I meant to ask,” Wooyoung started, rubbing the puppy’s belly, “who recommended Soyeon? You said she came on high recommendation.”

“Our lovely friend, Hongjoong.”

Wooyoung hummed. The puppy grabbed his wrist with its little paws. Wooyoung let it think it held him captive, shaking his wrist lightly. “He stopped by tonight,” he said.

“I know.”

Wooyoung was once the puppy, thinking he had control when it was nothing more than an illusion the entire time. It didn’t bother him as much anymore. 

Wooyoung had been feeding Hongjoong information for years, his ever-watchful grape vine. He thought he was so sly in the beginning. It was easy money and kept his job interesting. 

Handong knew the entire time. When she mentioned it casually one afternoon, Wooyoung thought it was surely the calm before the storm. Truth was, she didn’t mind as long as the information didn’t implicate the club or her name in anything. 

No one came in or out of the Obsidian Den without her knowledge. That’s why the drugs somehow making it in was no doubt driving her crazy. 

In a way, Wooyoung was glad he was the one that found the small glass vile. It had been on the floor near the bar like it had been dropped, forgotten. He hated having to make that phone call but he knew it was better than her finding out later. If she did, Wooyoung would’ve likely been back on the streets before he could blink. His place was privileged because of how long he’d been here but conditional nonetheless. 

“Did he say why she left Crystal Paradox?”

“Apparently it was a bad break up with another bottle girl that was on staff.” Her lips twisted in mild disgust, her aversion to all relationship-related things making her bristle. 

“Ah.” Wooyoung laughed knowingly. 

“She left before the potential homicide too,” Handong went on. “Don’t know if that makes her more or less of a suspect here.”

Wooyoung wasn’t sure if she was just musing out loud now or if he was meant to respond. Either way, he wanted to think the recent deaths were unrelated and nothing but irresponsible drug use. He wanted to think the desperation in Hongjoong’s voice was nothing but him being his usual paranoid self. He wanted to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil perspective shift! Hope it wasn't too jarring, but I figured this would be my best bet to 1) give other characters proper screen time and 2) reveal different plot details that everyone might not know at the same time. Also, I thought I'd mention that colors and numbers are important, maybe (big emphasis on maybe) not to plot but definitely to theme. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this one with comments and kudos! Thank you for the support so far!


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